


one might fall

by thisisgonnahurt



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Bloodplay, Knifeplay, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-04-16
Updated: 2013-04-16
Packaged: 2017-12-08 17:01:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 817
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/763821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thisisgonnahurt/pseuds/thisisgonnahurt
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Inspired by a hannibalkink prompt: "Don't care who with/how consensual. I just want Hannibal being creepily focused and still utterly fastidious and exacting with a knife." Hope you like it, OP!</p>
            </blockquote>





	one might fall

“Open your mouth, Will.”

It is the second time Hannibal has said these words, and Will knows a third time will not show its face. He says nothing, but his hands are tied behind his back and he is straddling Hannibal’s lap (completely naked, cock leaking against the fine fabric of the man’s suit, and Will is dizzy with a sense of being owned), completely at the mercy of a man to whom time means nothing. Hannibal always gets what he wants and Will always, _always_ , gives.

Hannibal is lightly twirling a knife – less to impress, more to menace – and Will can feel those eyes burning into his skin. He is looking away, at the room’s most shadowed corner, but he licks cracked lips and slowly parts his mouth.

His eyelids squeeze shut as he feels the knife trace his lips. Hannibal is careful, precise; his touch is that of a surgeon’s, or – and Will doesn’t know why he burns with sudden arousal at the thought – a master chef, so when the knife nicks at Will’s top lip and brings a bead of blood to the surface, Will knows Hannibal did it on purpose. 

The blade is replaced by Hannibal’s mouth, but only for a moment. He takes the skin between his teeth, pushing more blood forward, and sucks gently. Will hardly has time to be embarrassed by the moan that escapes him before the touch is gone. 

The knife creeps back, and Will chokes on impulse as Hannibal manoeuvres it into his mouth, tripping it over his teeth. 

It is gone in an instant. Will shivers terribly, gooseflesh dancing across his skin. His nipples peak into tight buds, and the thought of the knife going anywhere near them sends a hot burst of arousal through his body (he has always been sensitive there, a fact he had no hope of hiding from Hannibal). He tilts his head back as Hannibal shifts his position. 

The tip of the blade drags down Will’s throat and he swallows a gasp; the movement pierces it into his skin, drawing blood. Hannibal does not stop until there is a welling of blood and a cut about an inch long on Will’s neck.

He moves his mouth to the wound, sucking fiercely. His hand has found Will’s cock, but refuses to give him either the speed or the frequency he would require to orgasm.

Soon there are cuts all over Will’s chest, ranging from half an inch to an inch, and most gently bleeding. Hannibal’s mouth is red around Will’s nipple, but the knife is still spotless, and he nips briefly at the skin before he pulls back from Will.

“I would suggest,” he says, making sure that Will is braced fully on his lap and trembling legs are sufficiently spread, “that you don’t move, Will.”

Will watches the knife with wide eyes. Hannibal draws it lightly around his cock, and he moans. He’s burning up, desperate with the need to come. Hannibal could keep Will like this for hours if he wanted to do so, and Will knows it. It lends a definite power imbalance to the whole encounter.

Will has never been more turned on in his whole _life_.

Minutes tick past; Will tries to count the seconds but loses track when Hannibal moves the knife to his balls. He is leaking – he has always been like that, gets wet easily, and he used to maybe feel like a freak for it, but then he joined the FBI and sexual desire was replaced by blood and bodies and terrible, terrible knowledge. Hannibal slides the side of the blade over the head of Will’s cock, scraping up the fluid, and the sight of it makes Will groan. 

Finally, _finally_ , Hannibal puts down the knife. Now it is his thumb that brushes Will’s cockhead, pushing back the foreskin. 

“Would you like to come, Will,” he asks softly, moving his other hand to Will’s hipbone. Will nods frantically, eyes closed, mouth slightly open and panting breaths eclipsing any words he might want to say.

Hannibal understands anyway. He speeds up the hand on Will’s cock, and Will cannot help his sigh of relief; this is quickly tempered when he feels the blade press against his throat. “Don’t move,” Hannibal murmurs, flicking his thumbnail over Will’s slit. 

Will feels involuntary tears leaking from his eyes as he tries to keep still, but he has never been able to fully control himself in bed; his body bucks into Hannibal’s touch and the blade bites into his skin, and at the sudden pain he comes. Hannibal is quick to snatch the knife away before Will jerks, helpless with orgasm, and slumps forward towards Hannibal, exhausted.

“Be careful Will,” he whispers, lips warm against Will’s ear, listening to the man gasp for breath. “I would not have you accidentally killed by my hand.”

Hannibal does nothing accidentally.

**Author's Note:**

> surgeon general's warning: do not ever let hannibal near you with a knife.
> 
> (though at least it would be clean i guess)


End file.
